


bury my love (so i can give you the world)

by skittykitty



Category: Digitalta's Digital Wonderland
Genre: Accidental Stabbing, Addiction, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst and Humor, Apathy, Asphyxiation, Attempted Murder, Badass Chev, Badass Peb, Blind Character, Blindness, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Bows & Arrows, Brutal Murder, Burns, Cauterization, Character Death, Character Study, Child Death, Chronic Pain, Disabled Character, Drug Addiction, Electricity, Electrocution, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Explosives, Fear of Death, Fire, For like two minutes, Foreshadowing, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Healthy Relationships, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Impending Death, Internal Conflict, Isolation, Loneliness, Major Character Injury, Mercy Killing, Missing Persons, Misunderstandings, Murder, Nonbinary Character, Pain, Panic, Permanent Injury, Physical Disability, Platonic Relationships, References to Depression, Regret, Slow Death, Social Isolation, Stabbing, Starvation, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Trauma, Violence, assumed missing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-05-31 03:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19417846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittykitty/pseuds/skittykitty
Summary: Sketch and Chev, two people living in District 6. One disabled, the other mentally ill. They are best friends, but both end up in the Hunger Games, forging their own paths separate from one another.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oceanbreeze7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oceanbreeze7/gifts), [fiveohfive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveohfive/gifts).



> Title is from "Moondust" by Jaymes Young

_Kae held onto the pale hand, hoping beyond reason that Sketch would survive their wounds. But reality couldn’t be ignored so easily._

_As blue eyes dulled, they fixated on Kae. Their lips molded around words that would never escape them, as death slackened pale limbs._

_Kae closed her eyes, regret flooding her._

_This was her fault._

* * *

Sketch was a part of District Six. They had a father who worked with trains, and an absent mother.

With all of their issues they were breaking under the pressure.

Most of their District were addicted to painkillers, as many of them often got trapped underneath the heavy equipment they worked with and got injured in the process. Looking around the District you could see many people with missing limbs.

It was easy to ask someone for painkillers, saying it was “that time of the month”.

Getting addicted was the easy part.

Stopping had never crossed their mind. And it never would.

* * *

“So, I’m the designer for your costumes!” He said, glancing at the two of them. “I’m Evan!”

Evan glanced towards them, suddenly serious. “District 6, known for transportation…” He began walking in circles, looking towards them occasionally.

When he finally began designing the costumes, they knew that they’d be uncomfortable in them.

* * *

_Kae noticed, soon after meeting Sketch, that they always hid themselves somehow. Whether through covering clothing, or a hood to hide in._

“Make allies,” _Ani had said._ “Make them _love you.”_

_She wondered, would Sketch be a good ally? Would they be dependable, not double-cross her?_

_Watching as Sketch popped a pill into their mouth, Kae didn’t know._

* * *

Chev and Sketch were addicts, but they were addicts with a friend. They had each other, and no one else.

They were able-bodied teenagers who could be helping, _should_ be helping, to the adults. But they were also children who shouldn’t be playing with dangerous equipment.

They were in the area between adulthood and childhood.

Though, both of them had few memories of their past. The painkillers had a side effect of memory loss.

Not that they minded, the numbness, and dissociative qualities of the painkillers were heaven to the duo. They didn’t have to pay attention to their world, and the world didn’t matter.

Except for the one day a year.

When they’d dress up like they meant something and stand in a crowd of hundreds, hoping to blend in for one more day.

_“If they choose you, I’ll volunteer in your place,” Chev had promised._

Though neither expected Chev’s declaration to happen, the world had a way of making unprecedented changes to their world.

_“And our first representative… Sketch Belair!”_

Surprise. Shock.

Some of the most intense feelings Sketch had felt in months. It felt like Sketch had been living in a bubble their whole life.

It had been filled with pain and pills, but now it had popped.

 _“I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!”_ The words were like a scream to Sketch.

No.

Chev _wouldn’t._

As the blonde teenager limped up to Sketch, a meek smile on their face, the next announcement broke their relative peace.

_“Well! Since we have two capable people to compete we shall be going!”_

Chev has sacrificed their life _for nothing._

* * *

_“Sometimes, sometimes I forget about my leg,” Chev whispered. They had taken the pills awhile ago so they had probably started up by now. “I forget that when I stand up I’ll fall over for a second before righting myself, I forget that my leg will always be a disability.”_

_Chev had been a child when they had gotten the injury. Their father had brought an engine to work on at home and Chev had wanted to help. Unfortunately, the engine fell onto their leg, shattering it beyond repair. So Chev had to live with the injury for the rest of their life._

_The limp followed them eternally, in their every step._

_Sketch, flowing in and out of their dissociative mood, took a second to respond. “I get that, Chev. Sometimes I wake up and think, maybe today everything will be okay! But then I go downstairs and find out that today I have no appetite!”_

_Sketch looked off towards the smoke floating above the buildings surrounding them. “So I starve that day. And the next. Until my appetite comes back.”_

_Chev smiled, as they both linger in the pain-free existence the pills give them._

* * *

_Sketch and Chev were from the same page, lived similar lives, yet were very intrinsically different._

_Sketch took painkillers to be able to disassociate from reality._

_Chev took them because they needed to. To ignore the chronic pain in their leg, the pills were the only answer._

_Chev wanted to live and be happy, while Sketch only wanted to survive._

* * *

Sketch knew how they would die weeks before it happened.

They had been addicted to painkillers for so long they could barely feel it if someone stabbed them.

As they spaced out during the training, not even trying to survive anymore, they didn’t feel watchful eyes on them.

They only had eyes for Chev as they bonded with those from other districts, learning to hide rather than hunt.

They hoped Chev wouldn’t die like Sketch would.

They knew it’d be unpleasant.

Chev didn’t deserve something like that. They deserved a beautiful death. To be surrounded by flowers.

* * *

The people in District 6 often wore dark, skin-tight clothing. But no one in the capital ever tried to make them feel comfortable.

They were wearing bright outfits, it seemed as if the stars wound across their shoulders.

Though the clothing looked good, it felt bad to them.

It was hard to sit through the introductions.

* * *

On the second day of training, Kae decided to approach the loner.

Sketch wasn’t even trying to survive, were they? They had already given up, even before the games had started.

As Kae sat beside them on the bench they had planted themselves on, she noticed they didn’t seem to notice her, with eyes only for the other tribute of their District.

Overlooking the teen’s profile—which was half covered by their hoodie. A few strands of dark brown hair snuck out of the hoodie’s grip. Freckles dotted across the youth’s face, contrasting with the light blue eyes that seemed emotionless in the light.

“Hello?” Kae asked pensively, wondering how the tribute would react.

“Oh,” they looked over at her, seemingly uncaring of her presence. “Who are you, again?”

Kae could tell they didn’t truly care about her. “I’m Kae, from District 12, you?”

“Sketch, District 6.” District 6, known for transportation, and their addiction to pills. Ah. So that’s what they were taking on the first day.

No other words were spoken between the two of them, as Sketch gazed off.

* * *

“Sketch,” Chev greeted them as they entered, a stern look in their eyes. “We need to talk.”

As they sat opposite of one another, Chev sighed. “We both know how the games will end, Sketch.”

They nodded, “We will both be dead.” That was the cold, hard truth.

“Yes,” Chev agreed. “We will be, but you shouldn’t try to _increase_ your chances of death, Sketch!” They argued, “You should collect allies! Die surrounded by your friends!”

Sketch’s eyes softened, looking at their friend as emotion overtook them. “I promise, Chev. I promise I’ll try.”

_(As Sketch’s gasps for air slowed down, so did their ability to tell what is and isn’t real. Tears cascaded down Kae’s cheeks._

_They knew this was coming._

_But they didn’t know if they had died surrounded by friends or not. Kae was here, and they were friends, but were they surrounded?_

_As they let out their last breath, they knew the answer._

_They had kept their promise to Chev.)_

* * *

The next day Sketch was much more open to Kae. They tried to hold a conversation, at least. And they tried out some weapons to see what worked for them!

It was a large contrast to their behavior the day before, Kae had been expecting a much harder exterior to them than they were showing now.

Kae decided to spend the day with Sketch, testing out weapons.

* * *

Kae was proficient with throwing knives, but skilled with a bow. Meanwhile, Sketch was better at hand-to-hand so was good with knives.

They made a good team. Kae for distance, and Sketch for up-close fights.

Sketch and Kae spent their days training up until they finally had to impress the judges.

They didn’t pay any attention, however.

Sketch had ignored it and done adequately on the dummy.

Kae had taken it as an insult and fired at the judges.

She had won a 12 for her effort.

Sketch had only gotten a 7.

* * *

During the interviews, the light was on Kae.

_“Make them love you.”_

She needed to take that advice to heart.

But instead of normal questions, they asked about Sketch. About her friendship with them.

She assured them Sketch was just an ally, if they died Kae wouldn’t care.

That… may have been overkill. She probably shouldn’t have said that.

* * *

Chev looked over at her ally, Peb. They were a loner like Sketch, but much more physically strong. They were from District 7, which worked with lumber.

Peb was best with an ax, able to throw it accurately at long distances.

And Roy, the other District 7 tribute, a natural leader.

The three were a perfect team.

Chev had created a circle of allies to help them survive. Even with their limp, they were still strong. They found people physically stronger than them, and united them.

They hoped Sketch had been able to do that too.

Before it was too late.

* * *

As they rewatched all of the interviews, Sketch paused on Kae’s.

Chev, beside them, took notice quickly. “You don’t have to watch if you don’t want to, Sketch.”

A sigh rattled in their chest, “I know.”

“But you’re going to watch anyway.”

“But I’m going to watch anyway.” As the clip began Chev could see all of Sketch’s habits. How their hand twitched by their side, how their eyes kept wandering from the tv only to return back seconds later.

They were anxious.

Chev hoped Sketch was reassured of their importance, but that hope was soon broken.

_“They’re just an ally, I wouldn’t care if they died.”_

Oh, no.

* * *

Kae looked around for her friend the next day, not seeing them waiting for her.

She went up to Chev to ask where Sketch was, only to be surprised.

“They stayed up in our rooms because your interview upset them, _now,”_ Chev glared up at Kae. “Go away.”

So Kae went away.

* * *

After finding her way up to District 6’s rooms she found her way to Sketch.

Looking upon the mess she had made of her friend, guilt welled up in her throat. They laid in their bed, facing away from where Kae stood.

“... Hey, Sketch,” Kae began. “I heard you saw the interview, huh?”

A quiet shuffle, Sketch whispered, “I saw.” They sounded dejected, as if Kae had taken something precious from them.

“It… it was an act.” She felt like that needed to be stated, that none of what she had said was real. She hoped Sketch had realized it.

“... Really?” Sketch sounded skeptical, as if they had reason to not believe her.

“Of course!”

It took a long time, but eventually they managed to repair their friendship.

* * *

With their friendship repaired, the duo watched as their time with one another dwindled into nothing.

Within days trackers were placed within their arms, and they were set to start the games.

Stepping into the tube, Sketch gazed off. The world blurred around them as they lost focus.

They knew Chev had many allies and would survive longer than the first day even with their limp. With that knowledge, Sketch calmed.

They knew Kae would likely go into the cornucopia first, try to get a weapon. There was a high chance she would be killed by the careers if she went that way. Sketch planned to wait near the edge of the forest (if there was one in these games).

As they were lifted into the light, they were blinded for a moment. Lifting their arm above their eyes, they looked around the area. The 24 tributes were in a circle, as was the norm in these events, Chev was to their right.

Meeting eyes the two quickly looked away to begin searching for their allies.

Sketch spent precious seconds searching for Kae with their eyes across the grassy land. Once finding their friend, they calmed slightly.

Kae was staring resolutely at the cornucopia, steeled to run. Would she really sacrifice her life for a weapon?

* * *

She knew what she was risking. The cornucopia was where most tributes died, and she wanted to run there for what? The chance of finding a bow? What if there were no arrows? Was she ready for the disappointment?

She didn’t have long to think about the subject, as the countdown began.

_“Ten!”_

She got ready to run.

_“Nine!”_

Looking towards Sketch, she saw them staring back at her. Hope was in their gaze, making Kae smile.

_“Eight!”_

Sketch believed she would survive.

_“Seven!”_

She had to live up to their expectations.

_“Six!”_

Kae remembered Ani’s words.

_“Five!”_

_“Kae, whatever you do_ don’t _go into the cornucopia.”_

_“Four!”_

But Kae needed those weapons.

_“Three!”_

Kae quieted her mind.

_“Two!”_

She wouldn’t have time to think soon.

_“One!”_

She took off towards the cornucopia.

* * *

Sketch sprinted towards the tree line, frantically reminding themselves to not look behind them. To not see the carnage, not see kids _younger_ than them killing one another.

To not see Kae die.

The first cannon sounded.

The first tribute had died.

As they reached the tree line, they looked behind themselves. Quickly, they noticed how most tributes had gone into the cornucopia. They couldn’t see Kae in all of the carnage.

One of the tributes from District 7 was attacking another tribute from District 5. Blood coated the ax they were using as a weapon, as it splattered across their body. The blood already over their clothes told Sketch that they had already attacked someone earlier.

They felt the next cannon in their bones as the tribute stepped away from their dead enemy.

Sketch watched as they ran towards Chev and the other tribute from District 7, all of them carrying packs. They must have been Chev’s allies. As they ran into the tree line, Sketch heard two more cannons roar.

Glancing back towards the cornucopia, they quickly noticed a tribute from District 2 running towards them with a sword.

They sprinted into the trees, and quickly realized their mistake. They had depended on Kae too much for supplies. They should have tried to grab some kind of equipment, anything would have been useful right about now.

Leaves streamed past them as they ran, desperate to live for a few more precious moments.

After the footsteps died off from behind them, they quickly hid under a tree to regain their breath. Taking notice of their surroundings, they knew instantly that they were lost.

Standing up, they cautiously walked forwards. Trying to walk quietly, they slowly walked out of the undergrowth.

* * *

By the night Sketch had not found Kae, but had found a water source. A small lake that was surrounded by thickets, so it was very challenging to get into.

Sketch climbed a nearby tree to prepare for the night.

As darkness descended upon them, they knew they weren’t ready. Not in the slightest.

One tribute from District 1 was dead. She was around Sketch’s age, dark brown hair, she was probably popular.

Sketch wondered what she’d been like.

One District 3 tribute.

The guy from District 5 they had seen the District 7 tribute kill showed up.

Both tributes from District 9 were dead.

And the final was from District 11.

Kae and Chev were still alive.

Sketch closed their eyes to get some sleep.


	2. fear of falling (you're asking why)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Less death than you'd expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Beautiful Crime" by Tamer

The next day Sketch awoke with a crick in their neck and a sore back. Looking around the thicket, they quickly took notice of the imprints of footprints in the grass.

Someone had been here.

They needed to get out before they came back.

_They could’ve died in the night._

They hurriedly slid down the tree, and jogged out of the clearing.

Sketch had forgotten for a moment that they were in a war zone.

* * *

Roy stalked the area around her team’s base. They had gotten some decent items from the cornucopia, not that any of them wanted to go back.

Chev had united the three of them.

Peb and Roy were in the same District, District 7, but weren’t very close. She had barely known them before the games, so focused she was on her own problems.

* * *

_Roy was nine, and had just been instructed to begin working. Working with trees needed you to be strong, the one thing Roy wasn’t._

_She spent a half hour flinging her ax at one tree, hoping and hoping beyond hope that it would go through._

_“Do you need help?” A teenager walked up to her, black hair tucked behind his ear so he could see easily._

_“I, uh, probably?” Roy stuttered, wondering whether or not he was actually helpful or not._

_He stifled a chuckle as he walked behind her, grabbing the hand that held the ax._

_“Names Nel, by the way,” he muttered, focusing on her._

_“Now, ah, you should put the axe-head somewhere behind your shoulder.” As she tried to follow the advice, he moved in front of her._

_“Yeah, yeah, that’s good! You’re doing great!” As she hit the tree, her ax going deeper than usual, he grinned._

_“I think you’re doing great for yourself so far, so I’m gonna go!”_

_As he walked away she continued to chop at the tree. When it began to fall seconds later she smiled, before seeing Nel still in the way. “Nel!” She yelled, but she was too late._

_Midway through turning to her, the tree hit him, barreling him to the ground._

_“Nel? Nel, are you alright?”_

_But he didn’t respond._

* * *

The tree had smashed into his head, injuring the left side of his face. The crack of the wood forever stood out to her as one of the worst sounds she’d ever heard.

_(Later, sitting alone on a log looking up into the sky, she’d think that she was wrong. That crack was nothing compared to the cannons._

_To the knowledge that her friends were dead.)_

* * *

Roy’s younger brother was thirteen when he went missing.

He was three years younger than her, but had far more problems than she did. He was partially deaf, so had to work much harder to be respected. He was lucky their line of work was more physical and solitary than the other Districts work.

He rarely told others of his disability, only the family knew about it. Their parents worked hard to make sure no one ever discriminated against her brother.

They were all one unit, working together seamlessly.

Until he went missing.

They had run out of funds to get food earlier that week, so he must have gone out to go hunting.

He never came home.

_(A body spasmed in an electric fence. He hadn’t realized it was active until it was too late. He had been screaming for hours, but quickly lost the ability to speak._

_As his vision went dark, he wondered if starvation was better than this.)_

* * *

Sketch stalked through the leaves, looking for any signs of other tributes.

Their hands shook as they pushed bushes aside. They had no weapons, and their one ally had been separated from them.

They were well and truly fucked.

As they snapped a branch under their foot, an idea came into their mind.

* * *

Holding a stick as a weapon, Sketch felt safe for the moment.

The idea of at least being able to hurt someone calmed them.

* * *

Roy heard a stick crack nearby. Knowing instantly it was another tribute, she readied for a fight.

As she instantly charged them, she failed to recognize them.

_(“I really hope Sketch is able to find some allies!” Chev murmured, watching Sketch sit alone in training. “They really need someone to connect to, and I don’t want them to be alone!”_

_“Then why don’t you_ ally _with them, Chev?” Roy asked, staring at the kid. They didn’t look like much, but maybe there was something special about them that made Chev volunteer for them._

 _“Because I’ve known Sketch forever, and they need something new. Something to give them_ purpose.”)

Chev had talked about Sketch a lot in their time together.

As Roy cut open Sketch’s stomach, regret pooled in their stomach.

* * *

Peb was guarding their base, as Chev had gone out to find some sticks to use as firewood if it got too cold in the night. Meanwhile, Roy was patrolling the area for other tributes.

They held their ax in a loose grip, the dry blood sticking to the wood. They had killed someone with this ax.

Watched as the kid ran from the cornucopia, and instead of turning away and letting them be free, had chased them down and cut at them until they no longer moved.

Why, _god,_ why had they done that?

_(They knew why, they had enjoyed the rush of adrenaline as they ran at the kid. As blood flowed over their skin._

_They had enjoyed killing them.)_

Peb was the only one of the three of them to actually kill someone.

They were a _monster._

“Peb! Peb, I need your help!” Quickly looking away from their ax, they saw Roy dragging another tribute over.

“What—“ Blood was pouring from the tribute’s stomach at an alarming rate. They were heaving for breath, as if every inhale escaped them. Their hands grasped fruitlessly at their stomach, trying to stop the blood flow as it kept spilling out of them.

“Oh god, _oh god,”_ They were muttering, blue eyes staring fixedly on their wound, in a way someone who had never been injured before would. “Am, am I gonna _die?”_

“Peb,” Roy gasped, desperation soaking her voice. They could see her panic as clear as day, painted across her features as she focused almost completely on the tribute in her arms.

Had that been her first kill? Had she panicked and hurt someone she didn’t mean to?

“Peb, please, do we have any medical supplies?” Oh, no.

They hadn’t gotten any medical supplies from their packs.

“Hey, hey you!” They poked the tribute in their face, until shell shocked eyes met their hazel ones. “You got any meds?”

They floundered for a moment, “N—no?”

“Well, fuck you then,” Peb said, before walking away.

* * *

Sketch looked around the camp they were now in. They had no idea why they were still alive, but were thankful for it.

Though the pain was dulled, they had never felt this much pain in their life. They watched as blood fell out of them, almost able to ignore the pain.

Was this their end?

Would the blood pour and pour out of them until there was nothing left inside of them?

As they coated their palm in their own blood, they wondered if the world was supposed to be this quiet.

* * *

When Chev returned to camp with firewood in their arms, it was chaos. Roy was frantically moving around their supplies, looking like she was on the verge of tears.

“What’s going on?!” Chev ran over, quickly depositing the wood by the rest of their supplies.

“So, uh,” Roy looked back at the person sitting on a log. They looked shell-shocked, with their lower body covered in blood. Wait a second.

That was— “Sketch,” they muttered, “why is Sketch here, Roy?! Why are they _bleeding?”_

“So, uh, funny story actually,” Roy looked everywhere but at Chev, focusing her eyes on the trees behind them. “I may have accidentally stabbed Sketch.”

_“What!?”_

“I was patrolling, and they just—kind of appeared?” _She had stabbed Sketch,_ “so I panicked and attacked, and then, _boom!_ It’s Chev’s best friend I just stabbed!”

“Roy,” Chev couldn’t tear their eyes away from Sketch. Did they even realize Chev was here, so deeply wrapped up in their pain they were? The blood had mostly stopped for the moment, but god, it was horrifying to see how much red soaked the grass underneath them.

They could easily see the path where Sketch had been dragged to the stump, so clear the contrast between the green and red was.

“Chev…” She took a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic energy around her. “I have a plan.”

Chev made eye-contact with her, a kid of desperation and sadness coating their eyes. “What is it?”

“I’m going to cauterize the wound,” Roy lifted her hands up. “Now, I know that sounds horrible, _but_ if we do it right it’ll save their life!”

Chev was cautious of the idea of cauterizing their wound, but also didn’t like the idea of them bleeding out. “So we’ll start a fire and heat up your sword, right?”

“Oh,” Roy looked shocked, as if she had been seeing the world in black and white her whole life and now it was in color. “Oh, yeah I have a sword. I forgot.”

_“Were you planning to use fire on its own to cauterize it?!”_

“Maybe?”

* * *

“Sketch,” Chev was standing in front of them, one hand on Sketch’s cheek. “Sketch, stay with me, please.” As they blearily looked past them, Chev slapped them across their face. Seeing some of the dullness fading from their eyes, Chev calmed down.

“Sketch, I need you to talk to me, okay?” When they began to drift again, Chev pinched their cheek.

“I’m—I’m here, Chev,” they gasped out. God, they had to be in so much pain. “I’m here, and—and I’m not leaving. Not now, not ever.”

Chev wanted to cry, so desperately, so badly, they could feel the prickle behind their eyes, but they wouldn’t do it now. They wouldn’t let Sketch see the pain they were causing them.

Chev had hoped they’d die apart, so neither would have to see the others final moments. But it seemed the world wanted them both to suffer.

“Sketch, there’s something I need to tell you before we get started.” They forced themselves to maintain eye contact with Sketch, “you’re bleeding too much so we have to cauterize your wound.”

Sketch looked a mix of surprised and shocked, and a bit confused. “Cauterize my what—?”

Ah.

So they didn’t know what cauterization was.

“It—it’s where we put a hot blade on your wound to heal it!” At least, that was the simple way of putting it. Even after the wound was healed, there was a high chance of infection setting in. There were many contingencies they could take to avoid that, but they didn’t have the equipment for it.

After the wound healed, infection would choke the life out of Sketch. It would take that moment of real hope and tear it apart. Make sure Sketch had no chance of surviving.

But did any of them truly have that chance?

* * *

The fire was set.

Roy watched the fire burn as Chev talked to Sketch, telling them how the procedure would go. How Roy would heat up her blade, and burn the wound.

Roy felt her hand shaking at the thought of something going wrong.

_(She knew it would go wrong, they couldn’t wash the blade or the wound. She knew infection would creep in and kill Sketch._

_Roy had caused this.)_

“Roy!” Chev called, their eyes despondent as they both knew what would come of Sketch in the coming days. “They’re ready.”

Roy, remembering that there were other tributes coming to kill them, had the forethought of trying to silence Sketch. Their screams would bring all the others to them.

As the sun began its descent, the fire lit up Sketch’s face. It gave color to their almost paper-like skin. It made them more real.

It made what Roy was about to do to them more real.

“Here,” Roy tried to get rid of the shaky feeling taking roots in her hands. If she shook during the treatment, everything could go wrong. “Bite on this when the pain gets to be too much.”

She hoped the stick would muffle their screams enough, that they wouldn’t have to do something else in the midst of the treatment.

* * *

The first tap of the heated sword to their wound, burnt the static in Sketch’s head away. It _burned,_ it was a single few seconds that it was there but it felt as if it was tearing their heart out of their chest.

This was going to be horrible.

As the blade pressed into their stomach once more, Sketch realized that the pain was so _sharp,_ so _blinding,_ that they couldn’t space out of reality.

They had to be there in more than body for the whole time.

* * *

As Roy lightly applied the sword onto their wound, she watched as Sketch clamped the wood tightly in their mouth.

They must be in so much pain, it must be burning them alive. She wondered if they would rather die in this moment than continue to live with this pain.

 _(“Roy, god, Roy, now I’m_ blind,” _tears cascaded from his eyes. One eye significantly lighter than the other, Nel stared into Roy._

_He stared into her soul, and took something with him when he looked away.)_

She pulled the sword away for a moment, to see how it was going. The skin had begun to heal, but could probably use a few more seconds.

_(Roy had done that to Nel, blinded him._

_It was all her fault.)_

The first section was healed.

Now she had to continue for the rest.

* * *

Sketch felt as if hellfire had replaced their blood. They were being burned from the inside out, purged of all that made them different.

Purged from their addiction, from sin.

They were free.

_(One day, before the addiction, before Chev, before the Games, Sketch sat alone._

_They watched as their father worked and worked on his machines, only to get little to nothing in return._

_They watched as others were shoved under heavy machinery, as people were killed casually._

_Lives only mattered if you made yourself important._

_And Sketch? They weren’t trying. Not anymore.)_

They squeezed the stick in their jaws tight as they screamed. Tears dropped down their cheeks as Roy burned their stomach.

* * *

When it was over, Sketch had no breath left. Roy was overrun with memories, and went to sleep.

Chev comforted Sketch, and settled them in to sleep for the night, hidden in the back of their small cave.

Peb was already asleep, having taken a nap before the whole ordeal had hit a peak.

Chev smiled at their family, and walked outside for a midnight stroll.


	3. isn't it lovely?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More death than you'd expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Lovely" by Billie Eilish

Chev limped through the path they had previously made from the cornucopia to their base. Most wouldn’t be able to see it, but Chev had used Peb’s ax to put small circular bumps in the earth to lead them to the cornucopia and back.

It was useful in this moment, since Chev _desperately_ needed to feel in control. All day things had been out of their control.

Sketch had been gravely injured by Roy while they were away, then they had to watch as they felt more pain than they had ever felt in their short life.

As their bad leg dragged behind them, they wondered for a moment if Sketch would even survive the night.

Would the infection attack in the night as they slept? Would Chev look over in the night and see the wound bright red, see Sketch in silent agony as they slept?

They didn’t want to face that, not now at least.

Looking towards the cornucopia, they could see a few spare supplies scattered there. The land rose in little mounds scattered all around the area.

Chev remembered from a past Hunger Games what those were. Mines. If Chev touched any of them they’d blow and most likely kill them.

With fear in their eyes, they pressed forward.

* * *

Darcy sat in the trees, watching as the group set in to sleep. Screams had woken her up in the night, so she had gone to investigate. As she stumbled upon the group, she had been assaulted by memories.

Things she’d rather keep repressed forever reared up, catching her in its tidal wave.

* * *

_When she was young, she met Ava, her perfect opposite in every way. She was happy where Darcy was bitter, kind when Darcy would rear up to attack._

_There was a safety in being young, most of those who looked younger than they were were spared from pain. Ava looked young and happy, so people didn’t often like to hurt her._

_But Darcy looked older, so people targeted her. Ava always stood up for her, until the day they stopped going after Darcy and just went for Ava._

_Darcy should have intervened._

_She never did._

* * *

Darcy stalked into the small cave, quickly taking note of the three people in there. There were supposed to be four, but if Darcy fled fast enough they’d come back to dead allies and no culprit.

As she looked over towards the third tribute, hidden in the darkness of the night, she saw too many similarities.

She remembered the red grass, sticky hands coated in blood, and could feel her heart crying out.

* * *

As screams cascaded out of them, it took all of her self-control to not run out there and tear them away from the flaming blade.

She hadn’t saved someone once, and now she had a chance to save someone.

But was she actually saving them?

_(It was another day in District 10, another day of bullying, another day of watching someone die._

_Ava and Darcy were both working with the cattle, getting ready for when the Capitol would start a stampede of new cattle to replace the old._

_They would give all of them a reason to run, most notably someone riding a loud vehicle behind them or something else, and lead them to her District._

_It happened rarely enough for it to be an event for those not accustomed to it, but not enough to make it notable to those that lived there._

_It would not remain as forgettable as she thought it would.)_

* * *

_As she prepared the holdings to be open for the herd of animals, she turned to see if Ava had been spirited away by her bullies yet. Seeing her friend gone, she prepared to wait until they were done with her to cheer her up._

_Seeing the stampede from afar, Darcy began to jog to safety, so she wouldn’t be trampled underfoot._

_As she gazed around, to make sure no one else was in danger, she easily spotted the group of four atop a hill that would easily go down into the path of the stampede._

_Oh, no._

_That was Ava._

No.

No no no no.

 _They_ can’t.

_They had reached their limit of how much amusement Ava’s suffering brought them._

They were going to kill her.

_As Darcy ran like hellhounds were on her heels, she got a clear view as Ava was sent tumbling down a hill into the path of the stampede._

_In a movie, Ava would see her and make eye contact with her as she died, but this wasn’t a movie. Ava never knew Darcy had seen her undoing._

_As they crushed her beneath their hooves, blood and gore splattered on the ground. From so far away Darcy couldn’t hear her anguished cries, but she was sure they were happening._

_Darcy only realized she was screaming when it stopped, when she ran out of air as tears overran her face. When she collapsed to her knees and wished for a moment, a solid moment, to run down the hill and die alongside her angel._

_Opening her eyes moments later, bloodshot from tears, she stared at the other three._

Her Angel’s killers.

_As Darcy began to laugh hysterically, tears choking her, she wondered if this was what it felt like to be unmade._

* * *

Silent tears streamed down Darcy’s face. She had never forgotten that day.

She had gotten her revenge, too, on the three who had killed her angel.

_(One hung from the rafters of his home, wrists slit open with a noose around his neck. He had suffered before that final moment. He deserved this._

_The next hadn’t been an active participant, but still hadn’t saved her angel. She killed him in his sleep._

_The last was the leader. She decided for some… poetic justice._

_The next time a new herd came, she pushed him under the stampede.)_

Looking away from the injured tribute, she focused her eyes on the strongest of the group, the one she hadn’t seen outside. Had they slept during it? What if one of the others has gotten injured? What if the procedure had gone wrong?

As Darcy settled above them, she readied for them to wake up with a start and to fight a lot.

As she quickly began to choke them, there was little movement. Were they just a heavy sleeper?

That would make this much easier.

* * *

Roy awoke to a hand hitting her arm repeatedly, but after the night she’d had, she didn’t want to wake up.

She opened her eyes, only to see all of her fears personified. Another tribute sitting atop Peb’s chest, killing them.

_Oh god. Were they already dead?_

As the hand against her arm slackened she realized what had woke her up.

It wasn’t the presence of someone else here.

It was Peb hitting her arm, calmly, as they were asphyxiated by another tribute.

Repressing her emotions for the time being, Roy moved quickly.

As the other tribute looked towards her, dark hair flying in front of her face as they both took in one another. Roy reached for Peb’s ax, quickly turning around to slam it into the other’s neck.

As she choked on her own blood, Roy watched, feeling the tide of her shock and sadness pulling at her feet.

_Peb was dead._

Her hands shook, as she dropped Peb’s ax, disgusted with herself to have used their weapon. Normally— _when Peb was alive_ —no one would care if someone else used each other’s weapons.

But now that they were gone, it felt like she had attacked someone using her parents ashes. It felt _horrible._

Roy felt herself shattering between one moment and the next, Peb was _dead. And Roy had watched the life drain from them, too shocked to do anything._

_This was her fault._

Just like everything else.

* * *

Chev had limped across the cornucopia, the land seeming much more menacing in the dark, as it was littered with mines every few steps.

Chev had never felt this much tension in their life. The realization that in this moment if they even forgot about their limp for a single _second,_ they’d be gone, blown to bits.

They had found some leftover supplies that no one had returned for, it wasn’t much but it would most likely help Sketch. No one had picked up the bag that held pain medicine, so that would likely help with settling Sketch’s addiction, for _surely_ they were feeling the effects right about now, and help with pain management.

_If only Sketch had had that during the cauterization._

_They would’ve screamed less at least._

Momentarily caught up in the memory, Chev forgot about their bad leg.

As it grazed a mine, an explosion deafened them.

White flashing across their vision, their last thought flashed into and out of existence in between explosions, _This is my legacy, isn’t it? An explosion in the night. I come into existence in one moment, gain a lot of attention, then I’m forgotten in the next._

For the second they remembered it, they thought it a fitting metaphor.

* * *

But it was never that easy. _Death_ was never easy.

They survived the explosion, and had fortunately not landed on any others as they landed.

Chev looked up into the stars, trying so hard to distract themselves from the pain overrunning their body. Blood soaked the grass underneath them, as their legs were scattered around the cornucopia.

During the explosion they had been removed from their disability. They were free from the constant looks as they limped beside Sketch, who was always too deep in their own issues to notice the looks.

 _“Look, it’s the druggie and the cripple!”_ They would jeer as Sketch spaced off, leaving Chev as their anchor into this world.

Chev wondered if Sketch would’ve become a star without them, if they would rise and rise so far above the mortal plane that they’d become an angel.

Not that they weren’t already.

They were an ignorant angel among demons.

They always assumed the best of someone, even when seeing evidence that someone was _not_ good.

Chev had never been that good.

As they looked up to the stars one last time, they felt down their body, past their chest, and their stomach, and—

There.

It ended there.

They were only half of the person they usually were.

Memorizing the stars, Chev punched the ground beside them.

An explosion took over their mind, muting it forever.

* * *

Sketch awoke to pain. A warm, watery pain flowing out of their stomach as they slowly awoke.

Sweat coated their back even as they shivered in the cold. It felt as if they were in the middle of winter even though it had previously felt like a summer day.

They looked around the cave and, upon only seeing their supplies, stood to go outside. Roy sat on the same stump Sketch had screamed and bled on earlier that day.

Roy had her hands tightly wound into her hair, and her face between her elbows.

“Roy?” Sketch began, but quickly stopped upon seeing the absolutely destroyed look on Roy’s face.

“... Yeah, Sketch?” She said, her voice shaking slightly. As they made eye contact, Sketch noticed that her eyes were bloodshot.

Had she been crying?

“Uh, where are Peb and Chev?” They felt like it was a bad thing to ask, seeing how Roy drew deeper into herself at the question. “I looked around and neither of them are here?”

Roy gripped the side of her arms, clutching herself tight. “They took their body away, Sketch. She—she killed them, and suddenly they’re both gone and I’m left _here,”_ her eyes were on fire, suddenly, the momentary rage overtaking the pool of desolation. “With _you,_ who I only know about through Chev talking about you!”

Sketch flinched back, a hand above their stomach. They watched as Roy paced around the clearing, looking like she was either about to break down or kill someone.

“Chev, Chev talked about you _so much,_ Sketch.” Sadness had overtaken the rage for a moment, as she held a hand over her heart. “And—and I don’t even know if they’re dead or not! I just know,” she turned towards them once more, advancing towards them with the flames of hell in her eyes. “That there’s only the two of us here, and, and I don’t know you, not really.”

Sketch decided to stop Roy before they went too far, “Roy, what—what _happened?”_

Roy flipped once more, as the raging emotions clashed once more. “... Another tribute must have heard your screams, Sketch.” Oh, God, no. _This couldn’t be their fault. Not again._ “Because I woke up to see Peb, my ally, _my friend,_ die right beside me.”

As Roy shook, the two waited. They waited for the nights deaths to be listed in the sky. Waited to see Peb, waited to see if Chev was alive, and Sketch, for the first time in the day, wondered if Kae was alive.

* * *

Kae wandered through the foliage, bending branches as she traveled through the forest, searching for Sketch, hoping that maybe this would be the day.

Seeing a clearing up ahead, she continued onward.

With a knife in one hand, Kae readied herself for a fight.

Seeing Sketch for the first time in the games, with a hand over their stomach and their face red, was like a miracle.

She ran to them, hugging them around their stomach as they jerked in surprise.


	4. didn't give me time to say goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Pigeon" by Cavetown

Sketch was taken from behind, hands grasped around their stomach in a mockery of a hug. As the tender skin began to split apart from the seams, they wondered if this was planned.

If Roy had noticed their weakness, and planned to exploit it, and had set up another tribute to kill them.

Blood dribbled down their stomach as they were held tightly to someone else’s chest.

“Sketch!” A _very_ familiar voice exclaimed, “I’ve been looking for you this whole time!”

As they looked down at their stomach, they saw Kae’s pale hands being slowed coated in their blood.

“Sketch? Sketch, oh god, oh god,” She quickly let them go, turning them around to look at the wound. “Did, did I reopen it?”

Roy, finally breaking out of her haze, spoke up. “Yes, I cauterized it earlier tonight, but it was still tender. If you had any medical supplies we wouldn’t have to do it again.” She stated, in a voice that sounded robotic, as if she had stopped caring about their well being almost completely.

Kae, reached behind her back to her pack, and searched through her items. “Uh,” she murmured as she rooted through them. “Uh, there might be something around here…” Her face brightened up as she pulled out a roll of medical gauze. “Will this work?”

The blue in Roy’s eyes didn’t lighten to a teal shade, nor darken to an ocean blue. They stayed an emotionless cerulean blue, a complete opposite of Sketch’s.

Their eyes were filled with uncertainty, some fear, but mostly relief. Kae was here, Kae was _alive._

When they had been separated, neither had ever known if the cannon they heard was a random tribute or their friend.

* * *

The night was Kae’s safety, as she always knew Sketch hadn’t died yet, and could allow herself to sleep.

But now, seeing them bleeding out on the ground, she wondered if it would’ve been better to die apart from one another.

“Sketch,” She murmured, looking over at them. “I’m gonna wrap your stomach now, is that okay?”

Sketch obviously needed to sit down, so Kae laid them down on the grass. They refused to lay down completely though, staying sat up. “Yeah,” they whispered, “just make it fast, please.”

Tensing as if they expected a great pain, Kae gingerly wrapped a few layers of gauze around their stomach.

The area around the wound was inflamed and she could tell it was well on its way to being infected. Sketch didn’t stand a chance.

Pulling them to her chest, she cradled them as if they were a fine porcelain that could be broken at any sudden move.

“I’m just gonna, stay here,” Sketch mumbled into her shoulder. “Until they show all the tributes.”

Kae, hiding a smile, tucked their head under her own. Holding them close, she tried to memorize all the best things about them.

She had thought she’d have more time with them, but now she would watch as the infection killed them.

Sketch had a time limit on their life.

Kae clutched them close, sweating she wouldn’t allow anything short of their natural death to kill them.

_(As she held Sketch’s limp body, eyes glazed as they stared up at her accusingly._

_She pried their fingers from her wrists as tears dripped onto their cheeks.)_

* * *

Roy gazed up into a sky that felt a thousand years away. She felt as if there was a distance between her and the duo near her.

Sketch was dead asleep in Kae’s arms, and they deserved a nap, honestly. They had gone through a lot throughout the day.

And if Chev was dead… well, it was just one more thing Roy could list as trauma.

Most of her past was one long collection of traumatic events, from her brother going missing, to watching Peb die beside her, it just kept going.

As the Capitol’s song begin to chime, Roy gazed into the sky. Apathetic eyes watched as tributes flashed into the sky.

When a picture of Chev, before the Games, before all of the shit they had been forced to witness, shone in the sky, Roy knew this was her end.

This was the moment that defined her.

If she stayed here and waited for others to come and kill her, or went to kill everyone she saw.

Looking over at Kae, the duo holding each other as they dozed off, she knew she could easily kill Kae now.

She was asleep, and would rather not wake Sketch up, Roy knew.

She could easily wipe out her competition.

* * *

The next day Kae and Roy made a decision. They’d both go their own ways, Kae would take care of Sketch for their last few days alive, and Roy would be off on her own.

Roy hadn’t specified what she would be doing.

But, did Kae really care about that?

With Sketch slowly dying of the infection from the bad cauterization _(that was done by Roy),_ Kae didn’t have the emotional capacity to worry about what Roy would be doing.

With their pack on one shoulder and her right hand gripping Sketch’s, the two were off.

* * *

After Kae and Sketch left, Roy was left alone.

Finally allowed some privacy, Roy began to have a breakdown.

Silent tears ran down her cheeks, as she curled into herself.

_She didn’t even know just how Chev had died._

All she knew was that Chev had left in the night, and never returned.

As her mind tore itself apart and repaired itself simultaneously, Roy had an epiphany.

_She didn’t want to win._

Her frame shook as sobs overtook her.

_She didn’t even want to_ live.

But she didn’t have the bravery for suicide.

Dull cerulean eyes stared into the forest as she moved to pack to leave her base.

Now that she was without allies, she didn’t have a reason to stay.

The clearing was too coated in memories for her to stay, anyway.

* * *

The two of them settled in for Sketch’s last few days among the living.

Kae had collected some berries on their trek, so she could savor her time with Sketch. As they settled beside a stream, Kae bundled Sketch around all the soft clothing she had.

There was one thin blanket, which was only large enough for one, and they used the pack as a pillow.

“Kae, please, stop babying me,” they muttered, keeping their face into the pillow. “I’m dying, not invalid.”

A shaky smile contrasted greatly with Kae’s pain-filled eyes. The blue-ish green optics flowed between pity and acceptance.

One dulled the color of her eyes while the other made them darker.

Kae had accepted that Sketch would die, but she refused to let them go out alone.

She would stay beside them until they died.

* * *

Roy first decided to go to the cornucopia to see if any other tributes were there, before wandering around.

She knew within moments that she could not go out onto that ground.

It was littered with mines, and a few parts of the ground was already blown up. Someone had already fallen victim to the mines.

Roy glanced around the scenery, quickly finding a heavy enough rock to do what she wanted.

As she threw the rock into the mines, she awaited the flood of tributes coming to see what had happened.

People came if something big enough caught their attention.

Orange flames erupted into the sky above Roy, lighting up her eyes with cold determination.

* * *

Arc and her ally, Adel, had been wandering around the area all day, not seeing any signs of other tributes.

Both were from District 2, and had been trained since birth for the Games.

Adel was the child of two of the kinder people in the District, while Arc had been neglected by her family for most of her childhood.

They knew she was there, they left food for her, but didn’t often acknowledge her.

Arc had worked relentlessly for their love, and only been given the occasional “good job”.

So she was going to win the Games for them.

* * *

Adel was the first to hear the explosion, but Arc was the one who insisted on investigating like she had for the other explosion earlier.

The duo had watched as the kid blew themselves up, it was sad, but nothing they hadn’t been desensitized to for years.

Now as they trekked to the cornucopia for the second time that day, Adel wondered what horror awaited them.

* * *

Roy hid behind the foliage as two other tributes entered the scene.

Both were brunettes, but one had a spear out as an obvious deterrent for other tributes.

As they got precariously close to the mines, Roy readied to attack.

* * *

As the duo approached the line of mines, they looked to see if the body of the tribute was still around. There hadn’t been a cannon, so they must be alive.

Arc scanned the area with her eyes, not seeing an obvious body around.

“Well—“ she began, turning to address Adel. But she was quickly barreled onto the ground.

As the person responsible quickly fled backwards, she realized what they had done.

They’d thrown her onto the mines.

As she blew up, she acknowledged what she’d always known.

Her parents would never notice her.

* * *

With the first dead, the cannon clearing that up quickly, Roy focused on the second tribute.

She was turning to run, trying to escape Roy before it was too late.

But Roy needed to protect them.

_(Roy wondered who “them” was, but at that point she didn’t really care anymore.)_

As she gave chase, dirt flying up from under her soles, she tackled the other tribute.

They wrestled on the ground, hands grabbing at one another until Roy got a firm grasp on her throat.

* * *

Adel tugged at her hands as the air was choked out of her lungs.

As she pulled at them, ripped parts of the other tributes hair off, did all she could, she felt the world becoming light.

The tightness around her throat stiffened like a collar around her throat as she approached the last few seconds of life.

Her last sight was of the cerulean eyed tribute sitting atop her, a display of blood coating the left side of her face. The blood was most likely from Arc, the explosion scattering her blood everywhere.

The other tribute showed no emotion as she entered the final three.

* * *

Kae and Sketch laid together, as Sketch writhed on the ground. The pain from their infected wound becoming too much for them to bear.

_“Kae,”_ they’d whisper, pleading with Kae to please just— _“end this, please.”_

Kae would always deny them, forcing them to live another minute in their body, racked with pain and withdrawal from their addiction.

They were being attacked by two different problems at once and all Kae wanted to do was _help._

“Kae,” they whispered, trying again. “Kae, Kae, god, this _hurts_ , it—it’s like my stomach is tearing itself from my skin, one cell at a time, _and I can feel every loss.”_

They kept coming up with clever metaphors to convey their pain, so could they really be in that much pain?

_(Yes, Kae answered herself, they could be.)_

Kae could feel her resolve breaking, she knew on their own Sketch would survive another day at the least.

They would suffer for every second of that.

When more pleas escaped them, Kae rose from her place beside them.

“Wh—what are you doing, Kae?” They asked, a pained haze covering their eyes.

Kae couldn’t look them in the eyes, “Just grabbing something.” What Sketch didn’t know couldn’t hurt them, Kae reasoned.

Kae had collected some of poisonous berries on their way as well, by accident and had only realized it when they had settled down. She had hidden them in the bushes, and now went to find some.

Coming back with them in her grasp, she ushered Sketch into eating them, trying to ignore the pain in her heart. “Sketch, you—you need to eat. To stay strong.”

“D—don’t wanna, just, just want it all to end,” They muttered against her shoulder, as they cuddled into her body for a full-body hug.

Kae shushed them, running a comforting hand across their back. “And it will! I just need you to have some of these, it’ll help, I promise.”

As they finally ate them, nose scrunching at the flavor, she ushered them to take a nap.

As they drifted off, holding Kae’s palms tightly in their own, Kae watched their hands soften their grip slowly until it was soft enough to easily escape.

But Kae allowed herself to enjoy the illusion of comfort.

As the cannon sounded, Kae allowed herself a moment to grieve while she waited for the carrier to come for their body.

* * *

Roy was waiting for Kae at her original base, a place so saturated in memories that both of them had to take a moment to remember.

“So…” Kae began, staring at the blood-soaked stump. “We’re going to kill each other now?”

Roy stayed silent, until an almost silent murmur escaped her. “Did you comfort them in their last moments?”

_(She could tell the exact moment they died._

_Before there had been a quiet rhythm to their breathing, slowly beginning to quiet and slow down._

_Now there was a silence in the void of Kae’s heart.)_

Kae sat on the stump, lightly caressing the wood. “... yes.” Sketch had sat here before, bled here, left a mark of their existence here.

_It would be gone within the next few days._

As they both sat opposite of one another, both deeply entranced in memories of the past, the Capitol noticed quickly that they weren’t doing anything they could use to entertain.

So the mutts were released.

* * *

The first sign something was wrong was the dead stillness in the air.

There was no wind, no leaves lightly brushing against one another. Though this was common in the Games, to get people to become paranoid.

So the two ignored it.

The second sign was the realization that there was _something_ coming towards them, foliage being trampled as something came towards them.

“Roy—!” She began, as she rose up, but was caught off guard by Roy grabbing her and dragging Kae behind her.

“Run!” She yelled, as mutts ran behind them. They were large dogs, probably made by the Capitol for this situation.

As they sprinted together, Kae followed behind Roy, who seemed to know where she was going.

As they appeared at the cornucopia after minutes of running, Kae was confused. “Roy, what—?”

But Roy kept running, “Watch out for the mines!” She warned, hopping around the bumps on the ground.

As Kae began to follow, trying desperately to not touch any of the mines, she noticed how the mutts weren’t even trying to avoid the mines.

Explosions rocked the ground, making it hard to jump correctly, as the ground shifted almost constantly as they kept setting off bombs.

As one of the mutts jumped near Kae’s sides, she knew this was the end of her journey.

As the explosion coated her right side in fire, she screamed.

* * *

Much farther ahead, Roy looked back at Kae’s screams. Seeing the other tribute on the ground, moments from being gored, Roy felt a swirl of emotion.

_Chev wouldn’t want this._

_Sketch wouldn’t want this._

_Peb wouldn’t want this._

She jumped to Kae, running frantically to protect her from the mutts.

She covered her body with her own, to make sure the mutts couldn’t get to her.

Seeing her hair partially burned off with burns coating her arm, Roy wondered how she would fare in life after the games.

The mutts began to bite at her flesh, tearing from her bones as they took bits and pieces of her away.

They but mostly at her legs for a while, tearing off large chunks, until one began to attack her neck.

As it took a chunk, she reared back, pain overtaking her body, as she began to cry down onto Kae's cheeks.

* * *

Watching Roy be torn apart above her, Kae laid there, terrified of her fate if she so much as breathed.

When Roy began to cry, something she had never seen the tribute do in all her time there, she knew it was over.

When the cannon sounded, she felt the body lay it’s full weight upon her.

_“And the winner of the 74th Annual Hunger Games! Kae!”_


End file.
